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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433606">Silvered</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf'>ColetheWolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smut Bomb: May 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Cheating, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Stiles, Dark, Dark!Derek, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Forced Voyuerism, Infidelity, M/M, Mirror Universe, Mirror!Derek, Rough Sex, Somnophilia, The Real Derek Gets Replaced By A Mirror Version, Top!Derek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:21:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets trapped inside of a mirror and is forced to watch as his own evil reflection fucks his husband.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smut Bomb: May 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>311</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Silvered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was inspired to write this because of the latest version of The Flash and all of the stuff that had to do with mirror dopplegangers, but naturally I had to add my own depraved twist to it. Now, I've tagged this with "dubious consent" because even though Stiles is happy to fuck the Mirror!Derek, he doesn't actually know that it's not his real husband. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you really going to pout like a child?” Stiles asked, shoving Derek forward through the threshold of the storefront entrance. “This is literally what newlyweds do after purchasing their first home—they go furniture shopping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been four hours of non-stop shopping.” Derek deadpanned. “And this is an antique store? This shit is going to be triple the price of brand new stuff we can find somewhere else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But this stuff will have character.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two filed into the crowded antique store, stumbling around awkwardly. The store was dreadfully dark and cluttered. Large pieces of bulky furniture tossed around deep shadows. The surrounding air felt oddly clammy and uncomfortable. Both Stiles and Derek were almost positive that they were breathing in dangerous levels of dust with each and every inhale of breath that they took. And although it frustrated Derek, Stiles seemed rather unbothered by tit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles grappled onto the backs of Derek’s shoulders with his hands and gently massaged into them—hoping to rub some enthusiasm into the broody werewolf’s body. “Look—you never really know what you’re going to find in places like this. Maybe you’ll be surprised. Maybe you’ll manage to find one piece of furniture that really just </span>
  <em>
    <span>speaks</span>
  </em>
  <span> to your soul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek gave a defeated nod of his head. There was no point in arguing with Stiles anyways. They were both already inside of the store and Stiles definitely wasn’t going to leave until he had searched through every dark corner and shadowy shelf that the store had to offer. The best that Derek could do was take a page from his husband’s book of how to have an adventure anywhere, anytime. It was the only real way to pass the time without wanting to bang his head into a wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles walked off into one direction and Derek veered off into another. The whole store was akin to some kind of maze. Derek carefully maneuvered himself through the narrow corridors, scrunching up the broadness of his own shoulders in an attempt to avoid knocking into either side of the piled up mess of furniture that surrounded him. There were large wooden wardrobes and china cabinets. Mixed-matched ornate chairs were stacked and scattered around. Heavy rugs were tightly rolled up and stood up against other large antique furniture. But the most surprising thing Derek found was how much antique silverware pieces were tossed around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles was significantly luckier with his antique hunt. Whilst Derek was off in another corner of the store, Stiles had already set his sight on a pair of some cool looking armchairs and an old coffee table—all of which was bound to fit perfectly in the new living room of their new house. The only problem was that of the price tag and since Derek was the one who kept firmly to budget, getting him to sign off on the purchase would certainly be a challenging task to face. Stiles wasn’t discouraged, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After mentally marking where the new furniture he wanted was located, Stiles dove back into the maze of antiques in search of his husband. He rounded several corners and tripped over several more dusty old rugs, but eventually found Derek standing by his lonesome at the end of one of the long and darkened furniture-lined corridors. Derek was completely silent and still. His back was turned against where Stiles crept up on him. It certainly looked odd, almost like something out of a horror movie, but Stiles was just happy that Derek seemed as though he had found something to tickle his fancy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek—hey, Derek…” Stiles called out in a sing-songy kind of way, but received no answer and no reaction from where Derek remained in an otherwise entranced daze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles stalked closer and closer down the tight corridor, casually calling out for Derek to answer him back, before finally crashing down both palms of his hands onto the man’s sturdy shoulders once again. Derek still didn’t budge, but at least he wasn’t dead. And at least Stiles was able to see what the fuck his husband was so invested in staring at. Stiles just hoped that it wasn’t something super ugly or super pricey. Otherwise, there would be a problem. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a quick peek over Derek’s shoulder, Stiles’ eyes caught sight at what was so intriguing to Derek. It was a rather large body-length mirror. Of course, it was an antique, so there was nothing inherently bright, shiny, and new about it. But there was some character there. The mirror’s outer border was silver, possibly real, and intricately carved with all sorts of macabre looking figures and symbols. It was also covered in dust and grime. It needed polish for the silver frame and the glass surface needed some hot water and soap. In its present state, anything that was reflected back from the mirror’s glass looked foggy and brown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think—we should buy this.” Derek confirmed coldly, still refusing to budge from where he was standing. He continued to stare off into the grimy reflection of the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah—sure.” Stiles snickered, reaching forward to grab onto the tiny price tag that was stuck onto the mirror’s frame. “But—uh—you did bother to look at the price on this thing, right? It’s eight hundred fucking dollars, dude. Thirty minutes ago you didn’t even want to step foot in this store and now you want to toss eight hundred dollars and an ugly old mirror?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not ugly.” Derek said, sounding somewhat insulted at the remark. He cautiously reached forward and brushed his fingertips through the dust-covered glass—as if trying to understand it in some kind of odd way. “We have the money and you said find something that speaks to your soul. This speaks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what exactly is it saying to you, Derek?” Stiles laughed softly, squinting harder and the mirror—trying to see what Derek saw in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That it’s perfect for the empty wall we have in our bedroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The bedroom, huh.” Stiles thumbed at his chin and investigated the mirror, tilting around his head in different ways, trying to picture it in their house. “It does have character, but it’s also kind of spooky. Don’t you think? I mean—all these little demon-looking figures and horns and thorns carved into the border. You really wanna hang this up in our house?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious about this shit.” Derek said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles bit at his bottom lip in contemplation, switching his glances between the mirror and where his headstrong husband stood in front of him, unable to look away from the grimy glass. And then a twinge of guilt settled deep inside of Stiles’ gut. He had technically dominated the majority of the interior design for their new house. He just had an eye for that type of thing. But Stiles knew that if Derek had had full reign over decorating, the house would be filled with empty rooms and only the bare necessities— a couch, a microwave, a bed….maybe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Stiles said, trying not to sound as deflated as he felt. “We’ll get the mirror, but don’t you dare think that this makes you the better interior decorator.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>➳</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Burning eight hundred dollars for an otherwise haunted-looking mirror was painful, but not nearly as painful as having to heave it out of the antique store, load it into the car, and then carry it into its new dwelling. However, Derek and Stiles managed to do it with only a modest amount of bickering. Derek’s werewolf strength was definitely the saving grace, although Stiles was proud to say that he helped just as much. Humans were useful, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles and Derek lugged the mirror upstairs and into the master bedroom, setting it down to rest up against the empty wall that was situated directly across from where their bed was placed. Since they didn’t have any brackets or screws on hand, there was no way to securely fasten it up onto the wall. So it would just have to remain on the floor, propped back against the wall. But at the very least, it could get somewhat of a quick wash with some soap and water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well— I’m fucking starving.” Stiles huffed, rolling his shoulders—stretching out his achy arms. “I’m feelin’ pasta tonight. Are you feelin’ past tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grunted out something that sounded somewhat positive, crouching down to gaze into the dusty surface of the mirror. But the grunt was more than enough for Stiles to head downstairs and get dinner together. Stiles had no problem leaving Derek upstairs to fool around with cleaning the mirror. After all, it was his purchase. He wanted it. He cleaned it. And perhaps it would look significantly less spooky when it was sparkling clean and back into good condition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After thirty minutes, Stiles finished preparing the noodles and the sauce for dinner. He set two spaghetti dinners nicely at the dining table with some wine and then walked back upstairs to fetch Derek. Pasta was his favorite. Derek loved it—almost as much as he loved his husband. Although, the moment Stiles rounded the hallway corner and stepped back into the bedroom to see Derek’s putting the finishing touches of wax on the freshly washed mirror with painstaking focus, Stiles asserted that perhaps the mirror had become something Derek loved more than pasta. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that’s a sexy mirror.” Stiles joked. “Wow—it looks brand fucking new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think?” Derek asked, picking up one of the microfiber towels that were laid out next to where he was knelt down in front of the mirror. He wiped away a few tiny smudge marks and then stood up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you have a career in antique refurbishment.” Stiles laughed. “It looks incredible— not as incredible as you, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek pulled Stiles in for a kiss and then looked back at the mirror, as if to survey his hard work. Stiles couldn’t help but notice the unwavering grin that tugged at the corner of Derek’s normally stoic lips. He looked so incredibly giddy and thoroughly pleased with himself for being able to bring some new life into an otherwise hideous looking eyesore of a mirror. And really—that was all that mattered. If Derek was happy, Stiles was happy. And who would have figured that antique shopping would strike such an interesting chord with Derek?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>➳</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hours later, after dinner had been eaten and enjoyed and after all of the dishes had been thoroughly washed and dried, Stiles and Derek lounged around upstairs in bed and watched through some old television game show that ran on marathon through the early hours of the night. Halfway into one of the episodes, Stiles conked out completely— curled up into the soft sheets atop the mattress. Derek, however, stayed awake and finished the episode. But just as soon as the credits rolled, Derek carefully slipped out of bed and hopped into the shower so that he could join up with his husband for a good night’s sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek emerged from the bathroom with plumes of steam wafting off of his naked skin. He was completely naked— using only a towel to casually drag through the wetness of his hair. He casually glanced down to where Stiles remained on the bed, still asleep, and then rounded the foot of the bed. Derek sat down onto the edge of the mattress and continued to towel-dry his hair, but found his attention slowly drawn towards where the antique mirror was propped up against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something came over him. His arm moved in a mechanical, trance-like motion as he worked the towel through his hair, even though it was barely even wet anymore. It was as if his body was just going through the motions, unbothered and not concerned with anything else. Derek was zoned out and dazed, staring off into the deep depths of the reflective surface of the mirror positioned in front of him. He was so lost and so outside of his mind that he didn’t even feel himself stand up from the foot of the bed and walk closer to where the mirror was against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek looked deep into the mirror and languidly pressed the palm of his hand up against the cold surface of the glass, staring deeper and deeper into the reflective surface. And then, without warning, Derek watched as a sinister grin stretched across his own reflection’s face. His own eyes widened in shock and terror and he tried to jump back, away from where his reflection seemed to look back at him with wicked intentions, but Derek found that his hand wouldn’t budge away from where he had mindlessly pressed it up against the mirror’s surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panicked, Derek grabbed onto the wrist of his arm that wouldn’t tear away from the mirror, desperately trying to free himself. He didn’t know what to do. Hell— he didn’t even know if what was happening was actually real. Maybe he had fallen asleep with Stiles during their nightly game show marathon and now he was dreaming about some evil version of himself trying to pull him into a mirror. But as Derek struggled harder and harder, it became clear that he wasn’t stuck inside of any dream. It was really happening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The naked reflection of himself paced around inside the surface of the mirror, seeming thoroughly pleased with how scared and desperate Derek was to free himself. It laughed. It smiled. Whatever it was looked exactly like him. Derek could see that. But there was something else. There was something dark and inherently sinister about the reflection. There was a gleam inside of the reflection’s eyes that wanted something— a kind of hunger that Derek couldn’t explain. And yet he couldn’t look away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then just when Derek’s head cleared up enough to think about screaming out for Stiles to help him break away from the mirror’s hold, the evil reflection of Derek reached out from the inside of the mirror and wrapped its arms around where Derek struggled so valiantly. At once, Derek felt himself get slowly pulled into the mirror. The glass had shifted into some kind of odd texture—something that wasn’t quite solid, but not quite liquid. It felt cold, and sharp, and wrong. But as more and more of Derek’s body was pulled through, it slowly overtook him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The surface of the mirror settled just as soon as Derek was completely pulled through. And then a new version Derek stepped outside. The reflection, solid to the touch and identical to the original in every way, shape, and form. Nobody would ever be able to tell the difference. And there—trapped behind the immovable, unbreakable surface of the mirror, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> Derek could do nothing but scream and watch, unable to get back to the world that he genuinely belonged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mirrored version of Derek stood there at the foot of the bed with a devilish grin spread across the face that wasn’t even technically his own. It felt strange to exist outside of the mirror, but it felt so good. Finally—he could be touched. Better yet, he could be the one to do the touching. He was real now. He was more than real. He was somebody. He was the new and improved version of the sad and pathetic sap now trapped inside of the mirror’s impenetrable glass. And now, he could do whatever he desired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took in a deep breath of air, feeling his lungs expand for the first time. He held up his hands and analyzed them—pressing them together and feeling skin touch against skin. Such new sensations. The mirrored Derek trailed his fingers down the naked body and image he now owned. He trailed his fingers down the beefy muscles of his pectorals, down the ridges of his sharp abs, and straight down to where he was twitching up eight full inches of cock to hardness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a delightful image you’ve given me…..</span>
  <em>
    <span>Derek</span>
  </em>
  <span>…..Derek Hale, werewolf and husband.” The mirrored image laughed. “Derek Hale….that’s what you were. But now that’s who I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I am Derek Hale. I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> husband’s Derek Hale. I am the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>Derek Hale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a threatening smirk on his face, the new “Derek” turned around and stared deeply into the same mirror that he had just climbed out. He stifled his laughter as he watched the “real” Derek violently pound his fists against the other side of the mirror’s glass. And by the looks of it, the real Derek was screaming and growling and swearing— throwing around all kinds of threats. And yet, no sound came through the mirror’s surface. Not even the trapped wolf’s furious punching rattled the mirror. There was absolutely nothing that he could do—nothing except watch his world belong to somebody else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek flashed a wink into the mirror where the real Derek remained trapped and then turned around to set his sights on where the enticing human boy remained fast asleep—lost to the world around him. Stiles was messily curled up on the top of the mattress, not yet tucked underneath the warmth of the available blankets. He was still dressed in the pair of jeans and t-shirt that he had worn throughout the day, having dozed off before shedding them and changing into pajamas. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A dangerous gleam twinkled inside of Derek’s eyes as he knelt down onto the bottom edge of the mattress, feeling the cushion slightly dip underneath his added weight. And whilst the real Derek continued to watch from inside of the mirror at the foot of the bed, the “new” Derek crawled up to where Stiles’ motionless form laid peacefully. He kept quiet and cautious, making sure not to wake the boy as it would ruin the fun to be had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek skillfully tugged away the pillow that Stiles was cradling in his arms and tossed it over to the empty side of the shared mattress. Stiles stirred and let out a brief muttered word of nonsense, but didn’t wake. Derek took a moment and allowed for Stiles to slip back fully under into his slumber and then carefully grabbed at Stiles’ wildly positioned limbs, moving him around and flipping him to lay entirely on his own back. At once, Derek fingered into the waistband of the human’s jeans and unbuttoned them. He pulled down the zipper and then hooked his fingers into the waistband so that he could tug them down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, Derek eased Stiles’ pants completely off of the boy’s toned and hairy legs, marvelling at the sight that unravelled before him. Stiles was so pretty, so nice, so ready to be played with. Derek balled up the denim jeans and carelessly threw them across the room to land haphazardly across the room. Nobody would need them. Nobody would care. And whilst the bedroom technically belonged to him, the “new” Derek wasn’t as particular as the real Derek when it came to cleanliness and organization. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles let out a soft exhale of breath, still completely unaware that his own husband was no more—trapped inside of the foolishly purchased antique mirror. Stiles laid peacefully spread out atop the mattress in nothing but his wrinkled t-shirt and pair of boxers. The boxers were ill-fitting and plaid and loose around the boy’s toned legs. And whilst they would have been incredibly easily to slip down the boy’s legs, Derek didn’t even bother removing them. He was too eager to play with his new husband…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek delicately slipped one of his hands through the front hole of Stiles’ boxers and rested his fingertips against the hot skin of the boy’s flaccid cock for just a moment. He drank in the boy’s body heat—feeling it pulse and sear against the palm of his hand. And then, just as skillfully as he had done away with Stiles’ pants, Derek pulled Stiles’ dick out into the open air of the bedroom, through the boxers’ front. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The simplistic movement seemed to interest the sleeping human as Derek felt Stiles’ cock begin to wake and twitch inside of his hand. Derek smirked and softly gripped his fingers around the boy’s hardening length and girth. With languid and enthusiastic tugs, Derek worked Stiles up to full hardness—watching as the boy’s chest seemed to expand with much rapid breathing. The human’s body was waking before his own mind and it made Derek’s own body flush hot with anticipation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles was big—way bigger than Derek expected. He grew and lengthened and twitched inside of Derek’s hand. And before Derek could even fully grasp just how gifted the human boy was, Derek’s fingers were delicately wrapped around nine full inches of cock. Derek continued to stroke at Stiles’ now fully hardened and leaking cock, changing up his rhythm just enough to make the boy’s hips involuntarily thrust into the air and into what he subconsciously believed to be his “real” husband’s gracious hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hot spurts of precum trickled down Stiles’ pulsing shaft, dribbling over where Derek’s knuckles were gripped firmly around the boy’s girth. Derek kept up his languid stroking motion and squeezed just a tad bit harder when he stroked upward—watching intently as Stiles’ cockhead reddened even brighter and spewed out even more precum. It amazed Derek to watch as Stiles’ own body rewarded itself, despite being completely out to the conscious world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles let out a breathy, sleepy groan—stretching out his arms. His cupid-bowed lips hung open naughtily, tongue flicking out for just a moment as he dreamily lapped at the corners of his lips. Derek smirked and looked over his shoulder to where the mirror remained propped up against the wall. And as expected, the “real” Derek was bashing his arms against the glass that kept him locked away from the real world—seemingly even angrier than he had been before. But the “new” Derek drank in the anger like fine wine. It fired him up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek clicked his tongue and quickly licked at his lips. He dragged the pad of his thumb across Stiles’ leaking cockhead, watching as the boy’s body responded by giving a sudden jolt. And then, without any hesitation whatsoever, Derek craned downward and took Stiles’ hard length into the wetness of his mouth. All of the memories and talents from the “real” Derek transferred over during the swap, giving the “new” Derek all of the tools that he needed to bring pleasure to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> husband. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was sloppy and passionate—Derek hallowed out his cheeks and started to bob his mouth on and off of Stiles’ leaking cock. He swallowed down the steady flow of precum that oozed into his mouth and whipped his tongue around the boy’s sensitive cockhead—moaning slightly in response to all of the soft groans that Stiles made when it happened. But Derek didn’t stop there. With his lips eagerly wrapped around Stiles’ cock, Derek used one of his freehands to keep the rest of Stiles’ nine inches happily stimulated—giving rhythmic strokes to the bobbing motion of his own throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles writhed around atop the mattress—completely bound within his slumber. At the same time, however, his hips involuntarily thrust upwards into Derek’s throat in slow, rocked movements. His hands sluggishly flailed around and his nimble fingers gripped into the softness of the blankets that rested underneath his body. All the while, Stiles’ breathing quickened and occasionally hitched when Derek’s tongue did something different. Stiles’ skin washed over in a sheen of sweat and a reddened streak of blush spread across his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abruptly, Stiles shouted himself awake—dashing up to sit upright from where he had been laid out on his back. Unbearable tremors tore throughout Stiles’ entire body as a completely unexpected orgasm was dragged out of him. His chest heaved with panicked breaths whilst his heart felt as though it was about to tear straight out of his chest. And yet, every inch of Stiles’ body was wrapped in the most pleasurable feeling he had ever experienced. Stiles couldn’t do anything but sit there and stare blankly in a stupor, right down to where he could see his husband’s skillful mouth sucking him off and swallowing down everything that was forcibly pumped out of his cock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Der</span>
  </em>
  <span>—wh—what the fuck—</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god</span>
  </em>
  <span>—Derek—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Derek, what are you—?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles babbled dazily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ body was trembling and twitching involuntarily as his orgasm rocked through him. He couldn’t control himself. His fingers and toes felt all tingly and his chest felt heavy and tight. His brain was still very much wrapped in a post-slumber fog. Nothing was making sense. Even as Stiles tried to think and rationalize and study what exactly he was seeing and feeling, his brain couldn’t fit the pieces of the puzzle together. So, Stiles just sat there— watching Derek’s head bob up and down in his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek pulled his mouth away from Stiles’ cock with a lewd and splashy pop, drooling saliva down to splat messily against where the boy’s still incredibly hard shaft was speared out from the crotch of the boxers that he was wearing. As Stiles gawked down at him in disbelief, Derek let out a low and breathy satisfied chuckle, lapping at his sloppy lips. He smirked and stared up directly into Stiles’ eyes, letting the green of his “stolen” eyes sear into the drowsy hazel eyes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> husband’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You tasted so fucking good.” Derek slurred, crawling up to where Stiles was sitting up— still bewildered and coming down from his extreme orgasmic high. “Come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek cupped his hands on either side of Stiles’ face and brought the boy into a ravishing kiss. It was hard and brutal and completely unexpected. Stiles was still caught up so high in the clouds that he couldn’t even properly respond to what was happening. Derek’s lips crashed into Stiles’ so roughly that their teeth gnashed against each other’s and their lips burned. But their tongues fell into an instinctive battle as they swallowed down one another’s tastes. Derek kept his hands at Stiles’ face and Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut—utterly spent and short-circuited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek— fuck—what’s gotten into you?” Stiles mumbled, breaking their kiss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek hungrily kissed at Stiles’ neck—dragging his tongue along the boy’s prominent jugular vein. Things moved quickly and hot. Derek kissed against Stiles’ flushed skin. He bit playfully and sucked hungrily, darkening lustful bruises into the boy’s fair skin. And even as Stiles tried to find answers to his questions, Derek continued. The boy babbled so stupidly and so lost to the touch of his own husband. He didn’t want things to stop. They couldn’t. Derek wouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just—</span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You talk too fucking much.” Derek sneered, breathing hard and heavy against Stiles’ neck and collarbone. “Wanted you—since I saw you—wanted to break you open and split you in two, have you screaming on my fucking cock. I’m going to have you sobbing and begging for more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles groaned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles felt like he couldn’t catch his breath whilst Derek mouthed heavily at the crook of his neck. He was so overwhelmed by the suddenness of everything. Stiles’ body was still tingling all over from getting ripped out of sleep via an unexpected blowjob and it felt so good to have Derek’s hard body slotted in-between his legs. Stiles kept his eyes shut and melted into Derek’s commanding touch—feeling the wolf’s hands touch him all over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles didn’t know what the hell was up with Derek’s sudden personality shift. When it came to sex, Derek had never really been the aggressive and kinky kind of guy. Yes—he knew his way around the bed. He was skilled with sex. He knew all of the buttons to press. But Derek usually took things slower. He usually kept things calculated. He listened and adapted and planned. As Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s body, holding him tighter and closer, it was obvious that something had changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Off</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Derek growled. He cupped one of his hands crudely at Stiles’ jaw—demanding attention. But the moment that he noticed the boy’s eyes twinkle with desire, Derek smirked. “The rest of your clothes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get them off</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or I’ll do it and you won’t like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles swallowed deeply and nodded in compliance. Derek released his hold on Stiles’ jaw and Stiles jumped into action—desperately pulling his t-shirt up and over his head and shucking down his boxers. There was something about the primal authority inside of Derek’s raspy voice that sent electric bolts through Stiles’ body. It made his cock twitch and leak. There was something addictive about it. Stiles craved to hear it again and again and again...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek gripped both of his hands around either of Stiles ankles and then pulled the boy’s body closer into his own—making it so that Stiles’ bare ass could be easily plunged into when the right time finally presented itself. Their bodies were slotted so perfectly together. They were both hard and throbbing and leaking against one another—drooling out hot pulses of sticky precum against each other’s skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—</span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>—I’m so fucking turned on right now.” Stiles groaned, rutting his hips upwards into where Derek’s own hard cock was pressed firmly up against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek smirked and shifted his hips around. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his own cock and led it to where Stiles was hot and ready to get hammered. Derek listened to the way the boy let out such pretty noises at the sensation. He swirled the leaking head of his dick around Stiles’ hole, but didn’t press in. It was too fun to tease and watch as the human grew more and more desperate with the passing time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to pound my fucking cock so hard into your tight little ass that you’re going to feel me for months.” Derek taunted, dipping the head of his cock into Stiles’ tightness—feeling the boy’s body shudder. “You’re going to shake….</span>
  <em>
    <span>break</span>
  </em>
  <span>….so nicely….so good for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles breathed, eyes watering with tears of desperation. His body ached for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say it again.” Derek demanded, spitting into his hand and bringing it down to rub enticingly at Stiles’ hole. “Beg for my fat cock. Loudly. Clearly. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>can fucking hear you, slut.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Derek, please—fuck me.” Stiles cried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>LOUDER!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Derek roared—spittle flying down to spay against where Stiles was flushed red in the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FUCK ME!” Stiles screamed, louder than before. His whole body shook. His heart skipped. His hole fluttered. There was an obvious hunger that burned deep in the hazel of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was all that it took. Without hesitation, Derek plunged the entire length of his fat cock into Stiles’ eager hole—bottoming out without issue. Stiles choked out and gasped desperately, flailing around in a mind-breaking pleasured frenzy. At the same time, Derek hungrily pounding his dick into Stiles’ body as hard and as rough as he could possibly provide. And each and every time that he did, it sounded as though the air was knocked right out of the human’s lungs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles thrashed around, unable to fathom how fucking amazing his body felt. He gripped hard into the sheets and kicked his legs up into the air—spread wide on either side of where Derek’s phenomenal body worked hard in-between his thighs. Stiles’ screamed out in pleasure, tossing his head back to crash into the cushion of the mattress that protected him from rocking around too violently. His eyes clenched shut, tearing spilling out of the corners. And his mouth fell open in a silent scream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek laughed—sounding maddened with lustful fury. He tossed a sinister glance over his shoulder to where the mirror was situated at the foot of the bed, watching as the “real” Derek watched—sobbing and looking as though he was about to pass out from the sight alone. But all it did was fuel the fire inside of the ‘new” Derek’s body. He kicked up his rhythm and jackhammered mercilessly into the poor human underneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their bodies smashed up against one another’s so roughly that the mattress underneath their weight creaked and roared in distress. Each and every time that Derek thrust into Stiles’ body, the headboard of the bed smacked violently against the bedroom wall. But as loud as all of that was, nothing quite compared to the sound of Derek’s thick thighs smacking into the meat of Stiles’ tight ass. It was lewd. Pornographic, even. There was a possibility that the neighbors would complain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek’s eyes glowed red and his fangs elongated. The sides of his face grew scruffier and his body grew quicker. The incredible physique of his body broke out in a feverish sweat, which dripped down his tanned muscles in rogue droplets. Derek kept pounding, keeping special attention down to where he watched as his own thickness plunged in and out of Stiles’ pink hole. The boy stretched so nicely and swallowed every inch of him with such a ferocious hunger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck—god—you’re so fucking hot—you’ve never been this—never fucked like this—” Stiles tried to formulate complete sentences but his mind was so washed out and confused and foggy—all he knew was how fucking good he felt underneath Derek’s brutal thrusts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up!” Derek growled, slipping his cock out of Stiles’ hole—much to the boy’s whined out displeasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek gripped his hands onto the meat of Stiles’ upper arms and pulled him up and off of the mattress that he had been laid out on. He tapped into just a bit of his werewolf strength, using it to properly swipe Stiles’ body up and into his hold as though the boy were some kind of weightless inanimate fuckdolk. And in a way, that’s exactly what Derek thought of the human—he had decided that early on. His perception was the one that mattered anyways. Stiles didn’t really have a say in the matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without complaint from the human, Derek flipped Stiles around so that the two were facing towards the bottom edge of the bed and towards where the captive audience of the antique mirror could watch in horror at what was to play out atop the mattress. The “new” Derek drew pleasure from the new positioning. It meant that he got to make the “real” Derek watch even more intently. And the best part was that the mirror looked entirely normal when looked upon by Stiles. He couldn’t see that his own husband was trapped inside of its glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek worked the repositioning with incredible skill and efficiency. He used his strength to smash Stiles’ body into the sheets of the bed. Stiles, however, let it happen. He stayed down and allowed himself to be pinned. He didn’t even bother trying to move. Rather, Stiles anticipated the feeling of Derek’s fat cock pushing back into where he had been filled not more than a couple minutes prior. He felt so open and desperate and was certain that Derek could sense it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking arch your goddamn back, slut.” Derek demanded. “Stick your ass up for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles did as he was instructed. He felt one of Derek’s hands press down firmly against his upper back muscles, right in-between his shoulder blades, in an effort to keep him pinned right down into the mattress. But Stiles didn’t have a problem moving the bottom half of his body. At once, Stiles spread his legs and hitched his ass higher into the air, arching his back like he was told to do. And just as soon as he did it, Stiles was met by the striking burn of Derek’s other hand raining down to smack hard at the skin of his backside—as though it were meant to represent some kind of appreciative gesture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek smacked both of his hands down onto the globes of Stiles’ tight ass and spread the boy’s cheeks open. He stared down into the flushed pink of Stiles’ cock-hungry hole, watching as it fluttered around empty air and begged to get slammed back into. Derek was more than happy to deliver. And without even using the guidance of his own hands, Derek steered the meat of his massive cock back to plunge deep into Stiles’ hole, immediately resuming the brutality of his rhythm from before his changed up positions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Derek hammered his cock into Stiles’ body, he allowed for the human to take a little bit of control over his own fuck. Derek could certainly smell Stiles’ lust wafting off of his sweat-soaked skin in delicious puffs, but he wanted to see how the human rode cock for himself. How hungry was he? How desperate was he? How big of a fucking whore was he for a big fat cock stretching at his inner walls?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not surprisingly, Stiles wasn’t simply just hungry for cock. He was fucking starved for it. It was as if he couldn’t exist without it getting pounded deeper and harder into his body. And whilst Derek maintained the speed of his own thrusts, he watched as Stiles impatiently threw his own ass backwards to meet the striking force of each and every one of Derek’s thrusts. All the while, Stiles remained with facedown in the mattress—biting into the cotton sheets in a feeble attempt to stop himself from moaning out so loudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles canted his hips even higher into the air and slammed back as hard as he could, trying to savor what it felt like for Derek’s massive rod to stretch him so thoroughly. Stiles’ entire body felt as though it was going to implode from the pleasure. He felt so lightheaded and airy. He could barely think. He could barely even breathe. Despite the fact that there wasn’t anything getting shoved down his throat, Derek’s thrusts were so hard and touched Stiles so deeply inside that Stiles swore he could feel it in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Derek reached into the softness of Stiles’ hair and yanked hard, pulling the boy’s body upward until his back was flushed tightly against the frontside of Derek’s sweaty abs and chest. Stiles yelped at the rough adjustment, but melted back into the feeling of Derek’s cock plunging itself into his overworked ass. Meanwhile, Derek messily mouthed up and down the side of Stiles’ throat, sucking at where he had already marked bruises into the fair skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at yourself.” Derek breathed, yanking Stiles’ head around to turn and look into where the antique mirror was situated at the front of the bed. “Such a fucking whore. You’ve never felt this before—never enjoyed my cock this much. Just look at how much you’re enjoying being my pretty little cockslut.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles moaned breathlessly as his half-lidded gaze fell upon his own reflection in the mirror. He looked utterly destroyed. His skin was shiny with sweat and blushed with soft hues of reds and pinks. His neck was dotted with purple marks from Derek’s hungry kisses and bites. Stiles looked directly into the reflection of his own face and saw how lifeless his eyes looked—how utterly gone he was—fully enslaved to the feeling of a huge cock getting rammed into his prostate. But he loved it—he loved it so much. And seeing himself like that only turned him on that much more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t stop!” Stiles sobbed out. Fat beads of tears flooded down the sides of his flushed face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek refused to disappoint. He wrapped the muscle of his biceps tightly around Stiles’ lithe torso, holding the human closer and binding the boy in proper place. And whilst Stiles grew drunker off the sight of their bodies slamming against one another in the reflection of the mirror, Derek rabbitted his thrusts harder into Stiles’ body. He switched up the positioning of his hips and angled his cock in a different way, making sure to thoroughly punish Stiles’ prostate every time that he thrust inward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles was lucky to have Derek’s arms wrapped so tightly around him—keeping him upright and firmly pressed backwards into Derek’s hips. Without Derek’s hold, Stiles was certain that he would collapse forward onto the mattress in a helpless slump. Stiles’ head knocked around— flopping without his control. All the while, his mouth hung open as he panted out heavily and let his tongue sling around saliva. He couldn’t help it. Derek thrashed around his body so wildly that Stiles had no choice but accept his reduced role as his husband’s sex toy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With one strike—one particularly </span>
  <em>
    <span>precise</span>
  </em>
  <span> thrust—Derek sent Stiles crying out in pleasure, only to spill out his second load for the night. Stiles’ hot body convulsed and writhed around in Derek’s stronghold. But Derek refused to let the boy flop forward to crash down into the front of the mattress. He wanted the “real” Derek inside of the mirror to watch his husband come undone on somebody else’s cock. So Derek held Stiles upright and continued to fuck into him—hammering hard into the human’s prostate, watching as Stiles’ hard cock flopped around and spurted out hard pumps of cum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy. That’s right.” Derek sneered hotly into Stiles’ ear, holding the human’s body in his strength. “Cum on your alpha’s fat fucking cock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Derek!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles whined. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you feel how good you’re taking it?” Derek pounded harder at Stiles’ body, feeling himself draw closer and closer to his own orgasm. “Such a fucking whore. Fucking made for this….made for my big cock….just a pathetic needy little human…..desperate for werewolf cock….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A striking bolt of pleasure split through Stiles’ body, momentarily blacking out his vision. The unmistakable feeling of hot cum flooding into the depth of his ass took Stiles’ body and twisted it into something that he couldn’t control. His entire body started to shake and tingle as a wave of heat washed over his skin. Stiles sobbed out with heavy, pleasured wails as he felt Derek’s cum hose directly into his prostate. It felt unlike anything that he had ever felt and in that very moment Stiles didn’t want to feel anything other than that ever again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek held Stiles in his arms for a solid handful of minutes, refusing to let the boy’s overworked body wriggle out of his dominating grasp. The power of Derek’s orgasm refused to quell and his balls continued to flood in waves into Stiles’ body. And as the minutes passed, Stiles grew more and more cumdrunk. The words that left the poor human’s lips couldn’t even be considered actual words anymore. They were more akin to the sounds of somebody completely destroyed by their own orgasm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>P - p - please…..</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Stiles breathed. His word arrived nearly silent, raspy, and weak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek shot one last look into the antique mirror in front of the bed, watching the way the “real” Derek could barely even look away. He looked utterly destroyed. As though all meaning from his life had completely burned away at the sight of his own husband hanging off of somebody else’s cock, filled to the brim with cum, completely dead to the world. But where there was pain, there was pleasure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The “new” Derek felt nothing but pleasure. He existed beyond the glass of the mirror and he knew that he would get to exist as such for as long as he wished. He knew that the “real” Derek would have to watch as his world moved on around him. He knew that Stiles now belonged to him. There was so much fun to be had and Derek planned on indulging in all of the available sin that could be found in the world around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clean yourself up.” Derek sneered, finally relinquishing his grip on Stiles’ body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles collapsed forward into the mattress with a ragged exhale of breath, completely bent out of shape. He laid there motionless with a dopey smile on his face as he felt the mattress behind him dip and shift in weight as Derek climbed off the edge and casually walked into the master bedroom to clean himself up. Stiles heard the sound of the bathroom’s shower faucet switch on, followed by the sound of the shower curtain’s rings getting pulled open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the while, Stiles remained spread out on the bed in a messy slump of sweat and cum. His cock twitched eagerly underneath his own weight. His hole fluttered around the loss of Derek’s girth, alongside the feeling of Derek’s hot cum trickling out of his battered ass. But Stiles didn’t move. Stiles just laid there, listening to the sound of Derek whistling innocently under the spray of water, as he stared dopily at his own fucked out reflection in the mirror. And for just a split second, Stiles swore that he caught a glimpse of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Derek</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the shiny surface of the mirror’s glass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I hope that you liked it! As always, I appreciate comments, critiques, and suggestions for future fics! Also kudos!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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